


Reap A Forgotten Harvest

by KahtyaSofia



Category: 3:10 To Yuma
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, One Shot, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:06:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben returns to Bisbee some years later, looking for peace and possibly absolution. He finds both in a most unexpected place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reap A Forgotten Harvest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mlyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlyn/gifts).



> Mlyn 's belated birthday fic. This is my very first fic for this fandom. I swear it's my last, but I said that about GK, too. This is very stripped down and simplified. The relationship between these two men is far more convoluted and complex than I make it out here but I really had to stop at 8,000 words! Happy Birthday, Mlyn! Enjoy! Be kind.

When Ben Wade had crossed the border and left Mexico behind, he'd thought he'd known where he was headed. He could say his horse had his head or the bit in his teeth, but the closer Ben got to Arizona, the more he had to admit that some part of him needed to finish a piece of long-unfinished business.

He knew there was every chance Dan's family was no longer even in Bisbee. Many things could have happened that would have had Alice moving them back east or onward to something new. Ben just knew he had to try. He had things to say to her and to William things he had to get straight in his head before he could get on with his own life.

Ben didn't worry that anyone in Bisbee would recognize him. The events of those days, just a few short years ago, had been chaotic and it wasn't like anyone had actually gotten a look at him. Most everyone who could say for certain what Ben looked like was dead; Dan, Doc, McElroy. With him out of the picture, Butterfield would have moved on to the next town in need of taming for the railroad.

He pulled his horse to a stop in front of the mercantile and dismounted, ignoring the protests of muscles too long in the saddle. Ben stepped toward the door of the shop and froze. To his shock and dismay he found himself face-to-face with William Evans.

Ben took stock of the boy no the man. The intervening years and hard physical labor had given William the bulk of a man full grown. His face reflected weeks spent in the baking Arizona sun pushing cattle. He had his father's direct, unwavering gaze and Ben felt gut-punched.

William recognized Ben instantly and his eyes widened in surprise. They stood frozen for several long moments before William spoke quietly, his voice filled with the low resonance of a confident and capable man.

"We thought maybe you were dead, finally."

"A couple bottles of cheap mescal sure tried," Ben replied, waiting for William's next move.

"We heard you never made it to Yuma," William said conversationally. "You broke out of the train and tore out of Arizona like you'd been lit on fire."

"I got bored," Ben said, looking for any sign of anger or resentment or violence in William's eyes.

"What brings you back to these parts?" He was forthright, just like his father, and something twisted in Ben's chest.

"I have some business needs finishin'," Ben answered, not ready to admit that it was William and his family he'd come to find. "You still workin' the ranch?"

"Pa has me moving the herd to Tombstone for sale," William said with a slight nod.

"Pa?" Ben's heart was in his throat. "Who's pa?" The idea of Alice remarrying and William thinking of the bastard as his father rankled Ben.

"My pa." William was clearly confused but Ben saw when understanding dawned. "You thought my pa was dead, didn't you?"

"I watched him die," Ben said. Hadn't he? "As I recall, you stood with your gun pointed straight at me, ready to exact a little revenge."

"It was a close thing but the town doc managed to save him," William explained, returning Ben's smile and the knot in Ben's chest loosened. "He had to spend a few months in Contention, healin' up, but Ma went to tend to him and I came home to work the ranch."

"Did Butterfield…" Ben started to ask, even though he knew the answer.

"He made good," William interrupted. "And after you busted out and went on the run, the railroad even paid for the doctor in Contention." William smiled knowingly. "I think Butterfield was afraid you'd come for him if he didn't do right by Pa."

"He was right to think that," Ben said, matter-of-fact. "How's your ma?" He couldn't help wondering if Alice ever truly understood the man she'd married.

"She and Mark are both well," Williams smiled. "They're back east visitin' her family."

Ben nodded, unsure what to say.

"I gotta round up the hands and the herd and get on the trail," William said, stepping around to take up the reins of his horse. "But you should ride out and see Pa."

"Should I, now?" Ben turned to watch William under the brim of his hat.

"I reckon you two have some things to discuss." William touched fingers to brim in a brief gesture and turned his horse to ride out of town.

Ben waited until he was out of sight before he mounted his horse and rode out in the direction of the Evans ranch. He didn't give much thought to the fact he could still remember the way after all these years.

~*~

He rode in slow and easy, keeping his hands in easy view. Dan was easy to spot, standing just outside a horse corral, his rifle held loosely in his grip. A brand new Winchester, lever-action repeating rifle, by the look of it. Ben was amazed at the change in the ranch. The barn had been rebuilt. Brittle scrub brush had given way to verdant green. Barren planes now boasted dozens of head of cattle. The corrals all contained horses. The livestock was plump and healthy. Ben felt a moment of satisfaction that Dan had made a go of it after all.

"Well, I'll be damned," Dan said quietly when Ben was close enough to be recognized.

"I thought you were dead," Ben replied, heart hammering in his throat at the sight of a man he thought he'd never see walking the Earth again.

"It was a near thing," Dan confirmed.

Ben dismounted and silently removed the saddle and bridle from his horse. Equally silent, Dan held open a corral gate and Ben let his horse trot in to join the grazing, drinking herd. He found himself watching Dan surreptitiously from beneath the brim of his hat. He couldn't put a name to the feeling in chest at seeing the man alive after believing him dead all these years.

They worked for half a day, hardly speaking. They pointed and gestured, grunted and mumbled as they fed horses, slopped a pen full of fat hogs and repaired fences. Alice had a large and lush vegetable garden and together they shored up the fencing to keep out the small vermin.

Ben took every opportunity to watch Dan as they worked. He was strong and sturdy, as capable with his legs as he was with his hands. Ben tried not to be obvious, watching only when he thought Dan was too busy to notice. Still, Dan caught him once or twice. Each time their eyes met, time stopped for Ben. His chest would tighten and he'd nod in acknowledgment. Dan never flinched, never looked away and would return Ben's nods with one of his own.

The sun was setting and handful of men had ridden up to the barn when Dan called a halt. The men all greeted Dan as Mr. Evans, touching their fingers to their hat brims, before disappearing into an outbuilding.

"Hired yourself some hands, I see," Ben commented, understanding just how well Dan had done these past years. "Mr. Evans." He gave a teasing smile.

Dan gave an answering smile of his own. "I like to take care of things around the house myself, though." His words weren't surprising.

Ben was tired but strangely at peace. He looked around and realized there was something to show for the effort they had expended that day. Ben realized that was a first, for him.

"I got some steaks we can fry up," Dan said as they washed up in the cold water of the pump. "Potatoes to boil, and some other vegetables from Alice's garden."

Ben grunted non-committally.

"She made some loaves of bread before she left, too, and the butter is fresh-churned," Dan concluded.

Ben couldn't remember the last time he'd had a hot meal that didn't involve beans and tortillas. He was suddenly very hungry.

Thoughts of food fled though, when he glanced over at Dan, shirtless and dripping fresh, cool well water down his naked skin. The scar on his back was still red. It was shiny, in contrast with the rest of his sun-darkened skin, raised in stark relief. Ben felt himself wince when Dan turned and he could see the other scars from the rest of the bullets Charlie had put into him. He felt his mouth run dry at the expanse of chest made more manly by the welts of long ago injuries.

If he hadn't already killed Charlie Prince, Ben would have tracked him down and slit his throat. Dan hadn't deserved that kind of pain and scarring, because he'd acted with honor and the need to be seen as good man by both of his young sons.

Ben hastily looked away when Dan looked up.

They cooked as they had worked during the day - in near silence. They sat at the family table, across from each other, and dug in. Ben had half cleared his plate when he finally asked the first of many questions that were burning holes in his brain.

"How's Alice?" he kept his voice low and his eyes on his plate, not trusting himself to look at Dan without giving away the tumultuous emotions he was feeling.

"Good. She's got a little Mexican girl comes a couple times a week to help her out." Dan paused. "She's got lots of pretty store-bought dresses."

Ben snorted, glancing up at Dan this time in shared remembrance of a long ago taunt.

"How's your boy's health?" he queried his second question.

"Mark? Well enough to travel back east to Alice's family couple times a year," Dan replied.

"Good," Ben said, unsure what else to say. "That's good."

They were silent awhile longer before Ben spoke again.

"I saw William in town this mornin'," he said. "On his way out to Tombstone."

"William's a good boy," Dan commented.

"He's a grown man, from what I could see." Ben shared his assessment of William.

"Almost," Dan countered. "He still has a ways to go."

"Maybe in years," Ben argued, remembering William's expression that was so like his father's. "But hard work and experiences like he's had'll push a boy to manhood kinda quick."

Their gazes locked and held, each remembering their own side of the shared experience from years ago. Ben wondered if the heat building between them was real or only his imagination, as neither of them seemed in a hurry to look away.

"Where'd you go after you busted out of the train to Yuma?" Dan asked suddenly.

"Mexico," Ben answered.

"You were in the clear down there," Dan's brow furrowed in puzzlement as he watched Ben closely. "Why come back?"

"Guess I thought I had some unfinished business," was the only answer he was prepared to give as he felt the heat curl into his belly.

After that, they fell into a long silence. Dan put Ben in a spare bedroom he'd added onto the cabin a year or so back if ever Alice's family could be convinced to come for a visit.

The bed was comfortable but Ben didn't sleep well. He'd left too much unasked and unsaid.

~*~

Ben woke to the smell of fresh coffee and the sound and smell of frying eggs and sausage. Dan grunted a greeting and Ben nodded a reply before they both sat down to breakfast.

The hands had already ridden out when they stepped off the porch. Dan's project for the day was to build a new culling pen for the coming cutting and branding season, or any other time he needed to separate and secure certain head of cattle.

It wasn't long before they were both stripped down to their trousers, grunting and sweating and straining under the burning sun. Together they measured and cut and hammered until the skeleton of the pen began to take shape.

Ben found himself watching Dan, once again, as they worked. He kept his head tipped low still trying to hide under the brim of hat. Suddenly, Ben realized there was something different about the way Dan moved now. It was freer, looser-limbed. He looked more comfortable in his own skin.

"There doesn't seem to be as much of a hitch in your step these days," Ben observed.

"There's a man in New York," Dan said, speaking slow as if choosing his words carefully. "Mr. Dubois Parmalee. He makes damn fine fake legs. It lets me wear regular boots. Holds my weight better."

"And a mighty fine pair of boots they are," Ben replied, pretending to admire the well-worn leather.

Dan huffed a laugh, shook his head and got back to work. Ben was unaccountably pleased with that reaction.

Mid-morning they stood by the pump, drinking the sweet water and cooling off by running their heads under the spigot.

Dan put his battered hat back on his head and stared off into the distance. Ben looked in the same direction to see if there was really anything to see or if Dan was watching images found only behind his own eyes.

"William said you killed your own crew." Dan's softly-spoken words startled Ben.

"Yep," he answered, recovering quickly.

"He said you were free, that he didn't see the need to shoot you, though you seemed to want him to," Dan continued and Ben wondered if he was working up to another question.

"Yep." Ben didn't see the point in skirting the truth at this juncture.

"You put yourself on the train when you could have just walked away." The question was inherent in Dan's statement.

"Butterfield wouldn't have paid your family what he owed if I'd walked away." Ben answered the unasked question of why. "Your family needed that money, Dan. And you'd earned it."

"There was any number of times you could have got the drop on me, but you didn't," Dan said, the question again left unspoken.

"They betrayed me, Dan," Ben said as he turned to walk back to the unfinished culling pen. "Your intentions toward me were always right up front and you always kept your word."

Ben didn't wait to see if Dan followed him back to work. He could feel him cross the yard several paces behind.

By the time the sun set and the hands all rode back in, Ben and Dan had the pen framed and ready for finishing the next day.

"Appreciate the help," Dan said with a small smile as they cleaned up at the pump. "With William taking the herd to Tombstone, it would have taken me twice as long alone."

"Maybe that's why William told me I should ride out here." Ben gave a small smile of his own. "A little hard work might do a bad man some good?"

"William's not usually that subtle." Dan was damn near laughing now.

"No," Ben concurred with a laugh of his own. "I don't recall him being much other than very direct."

Some of the building tension between them had eased. They'd been working in a comfortable silence for two days but their shared laughter seemed to release something that Ben couldn't put a finger on. It felt good, though.

Ben cooked that evening, making a single-pot meal he frequently threw together over a fire while on the trail. Dan made appreciative sounds. Ben shook his head at both Dan's noises and at himself for being so pleased to have made Dan happy.

He was sitting on the porch listening to the coyotes in the distance when Dan emerged with a nice bottle of brandy, the kind Ben had only come across in the cities and big towns like San Francisco, St. Louis, and Dodge.

Ben was half a glass down when he felt warm and relaxed enough to ask, "Did Alice understand?"

Dan didn't answer for so long that Ben wondered if he was even going to.

"Yeah," he said softly. "She understood, but that doesn't mean she agreed."

"No," Ben remarked. "Women see the world different from men. Need different things from it."

Dan's nod of agreement was barely discernable in the dim moonlight.

"She forgave me cause I lived, I think." Dan's voice carried on the still night. "If I'd died she'd have hated me the rest of her life, I suspect."

Dan arched his back in a stretch, almost as if talking about the wounds made them flare up.

"Do your wounds pain you much?" Ben needed to know. He needed to understand just how far-reaching the effects of his actions had on Dan's life.

"Some," Dan replied, easing back into his chair. "Usually only after a hard day's work."

Not for the first time, Ben wondered if he shouldn't have stood up during their mad dash for the train, and just taken one of the bullets meant for Dan.

"Ain't nothin' compared to losin' my leg," he mused. "And that happened for no damn good reason at all."

A faint hint of bitterness tinged Dan's words as he recalled his leg being shot off by a friend and not an enemy. It lay unspoken between them that getting Ben on the train had been a good enough reason to be shot in the back, even if Dan was the only one who thought so.

~*~

They damn near finished the culling pen the next day. Dan called a halt early and it was still warm when they stripped off their shirts and cooled down at the well pump.

Ben's eyes were drawn to the rough scars on Dan's chest, reminders to them both of their short and violent acquaintance. He couldn't help himself. Ben watched as his own hand reached out, as if detached from his body, and touched one of the angry marks on Dan's chest.

Dan stiffened slightly, his breath catching, but Ben couldn't bring himself to take his hand away. Instead, he moved his fingers to a second scar and watched, as Dan stood rigid but unmoving.

Such pain, Ben thought. Such pain endured for something so rare in this world as honor. Dan was truly the only man Ben had ever known that could honestly be called honorable.

"Good things came of it," Dan said quietly, his muscles relaxing visibly under Ben's fingers.

"You wouldn't back down." Ben heard his own voice sound rough and strangled. "No matter what I said, no matter how bad things got." He pressed his hand over Dan's heated skin and felt the roughness of the scar beneath his palm. "I couldn't intimidate you into giving up and going home."

"Ain't too many people stand up to you, do they, Ben?"

Dan's question caught him off guard. He pulled his hand away and his palm felt chilled by the late afternoon air despite the lingering heat.

"Those that do usually get themselves dead," he answered plainly.

Dan shrugged back into his shirt and walked away toward the house, leaving Ben feeling strangely bereft.

He found Dan out behind the house with a freshly beheaded chicken dripping blood into the hard-packed earth.

Without even glancing up, Dan said, "It's early enough I thought I'd fry up a chicken. Alice wrote her recipe down last time she went east."

Ben didn't think his agreement was needed so he stood in the door silently watching Dan douse the headless fowl in a tub of water he'd boiled over a wood flame. The feathers came away easily under Dan's experienced hand.

"Usually make the boys do this bit," he murmured and Ben wondered if he was even meant to hear.

Dan produced a bottle of whiskey while they cooked. Ben could hold his liquor but he wondered what kind of drunk Dan might be. Half the bottle was gone and he still wasn't bleary eyed or showing any signs of being sloppy.

The bottle was empty by the time they'd finished eating. They sat at the table in silence. Dan seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and Ben just sat waiting for what came next.

"Why'd you get on the train?" Dan finally asked.

Ben found he wasn't surprised by the question. He reckoned he'd been waiting for it. He'd answered that one already. Only he really hadn't.

"So Butterfield would take care of your family," he said, staring into his empty shot glass. "I thought you were dead and the railroad should see your family taken care of."

Ben was startled by the sound of Dan's glass shattering against the wall but he managed to keep it from showing.

"That ain't good enough, Ben Wade," Dan shouted, slamming both palms down on the tabletop. "That ain't nowhere near good enough."

Ben leaned back in his chair and held out both hands, palms up in supplication. "Why Dan, I am even more sure this is the side of you I like."

"Tell me … why … you got on … that train," Dan bit out, teeth clenched.

"I'd just killed my whole crew," Ben smirked, unable to admit either to himself or to Dan what he'd felt that day. "I'm a bad man. Prison's where I belong."

Dan stood abruptly, nearly toppling his chair. He paced the room, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Why?" Dan growled, coming to stand over Ben.

"I was bored," Ben drawled, smiling up at Dan's angry countenance. "And I'd worn out my welcome in Contention."

Ben was suddenly yanked from his chair by Dan's hands fisted in his shirt. He found himself pressed close to Dan, their faces a breath apart. Dan's angry eyes were hard as flint and they stared right through Ben. He stared back, knowing Dan wouldn't be the first to look away.

"You could have jumped on your horse and ridden for Mexico," Dan hissed, his whiskey-laden breath ghosting over Ben's cheek. "Instead, you put yourself in a cell on a prison train."

Ben felt a shock run the length of his spine and his cock begin to fill. He considered shifting closer, just enough to press his burgeoning erection against Dan's hip.

"I really like this side of you, Dan." Ben's voice was hoarse from the whiskey and uneven from desire.

Dan shifted their bodies, pressing Ben backward against the table. Without thinking, he thrust his hips forward, seeking contact and friction. His own hip pressed against Dan's groin and Ben stopped breathing. Dan was growing hard, too.

There was no way to tell who started the kiss. It was less of a kiss than it was a collision. Rough, chapped lips ground together. Sharp teeth pressed painfully against skin. Ben opened his mouth and bit down on Dan's lip. He swallowed the resulting gasp. When he shifted for a better angle, Dan's tongue snaked out and licked into Ben's mouth.

It was angry and brutal and violent. Ben pressed into Dan and their teeth clashed, their lips grew swollen and bruised. It was wet and hot and Ben's dick was fully hard and pressing up against his belly.

Dan shoved him harder into the table and ground against his hip. Ben felt Dan's cock, as rigid and hard as his own. Ben moaned when Dan broke away. He tried to follow but he was denied when Dan buried his face in Ben's neck and bit down on the hammering pulse point.

Ben felt Dan's hands between them, struggling to release both of their flies. His hips pressed impatiently against Dan as he fumbled to free them both from their trousers.

When the cool air met Ben's erection, he hissed at the sensation. He felt the bump and rub of Dan's cock against his own and he reached between them, aching to grasp and press them together and just thrust mindlessly.

They got in each other's way until they finally each found space to wrap their hands around their cocks as they slid back and forth against each other. Their crowns would catch as they each drew back and Dan gasped and moaned. He lifted his head and pressed his forehead to Ben's and they found a rhythm.

Ben and Dan pressed and thrust against each other, their cocks sliding in and out of their gripped hands. Ben inhaled each of Dan's harsh exhalation as if it was his own life's breath. It was his rhythm that faltered first.

He shouted as he came. Ben threw back his head and hissed and growled as he coated their fists in his come. Thick ropes of it landed on their shirts and their open trousers. He felt tremors rocket through Dan's frame as he followed soon after. Ben kept his fist pumping, dragging every last drop from Dan's cock.

Ben recovered first, reaching for one of Alice's cloth napkins to clean them up. Dan leaned heavily against the table, breathing hard and not meeting Ben's gaze. He tucked himself back into his trousers before helping Dan back into his own.

At a loss for what else to do, Ben stepped back and headed for the guest room. He reached the kitchen door and paused, glancing back at Dan over his shoulder without turning around.

"I knew you'd say no," he said quietly, not sure why he was admitting this at all, let alone now.

"Knew I'd say no to what?" Dan asked, voiced ruined from his shouts of pleasure.

"In the hotel room. In Contention," Ben explained. "I knew you'd refuse the money even as I offered it."

"Then why did you?" Dan asked.

"Because I wanted you to take it," he answered. "Part of me wanted to be right that there are no truly honorable men in the world."

"Only a part of you?" Dan scoffed.

"If you took it, you and your boy could go home safe. Part of me wanted you safe." Ben gave a self-deprecating laugh. "But I already knew you were honorable, Dan. I knew from the get-go you'd say no, but I really couldn't think of any other way to keep you from gettin' yourself killed."

Ben walked quietly to his room and closed the door, leaning against it and shutting his eyes.

~*~

Ben rose before full dawn, while it was still dark outside. He easily figured out how to make coffee, moving quietly so as not to awaken Dan. He took his steaming cup out onto the front porch to watch the sunrise and wondered if he shouldn't just pack up his gear and leave.

Few of Ben's physical encounters had been as intense and desperate as things had been with Dan the night before. Then again, few people men or women affected Ben quite like Dan did.

Things still weren't settled between them, maybe less so after last night, and Ben didn't want to leave just yet. He'd see where things stood when Dan woke up. Evidently, he wasn't the only one needing to resolve things from that time. He also wasn't the only one feeling an elemental pull between the two of them.

The sun was just cresting when Ben heard Dan moving around. He came out of his room, fully dressed, and looking well rested. Ben resented that. Dan met his gaze easily and gave a slight nod of greeting, which Ben returned.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and came out onto the porch to refill Ben's. Apparently things were going to continue as if last night hadn't happened, which suited Ben just fine.

"After breakfast," Dan said, pulling items from the larder, "I thought I'd head into Bisbee. I need some supplies, but I'd also like a hot bath and a shave. Anyone who'd remember you is long gone."

"Bisbee has a full service barber shop now?" Ben asked, pleasantly surprised. He could use a bath himself, maybe get his hair cut. He certainly could use some clothes, given how light he'd traveled out of Mexico.

"Complete with pretty girls to haul the water," Dan smiled.

"Why, Dan Evans," Ben smiled, relieved at the light mood that seemed to settle between them. "What would Alice say?"

"Alice says she already does enough for me, let someone else wash my back and haul my dirty bath water." Dan smiled in return.

The ride into Bisbee was leisurely and companionable. Dan told Ben about the families that had come in some making a go and others moving on - the new businesses and services and the characters that all growing towns seem to attract.

They pulled up at the mercantile first. Dan turned a list over to the proprietor to pull and said he'd be back later to pick up the bags. Ben looked over the selection of men's clothing and was impressed. He selected a couple of sets of fresh muslin undergarments. He found a well-made pair of black herringbone trousers and a crisp muslin shirt, also black. Ben planned to wear his same waistcoat but then something caught his eye. A waistcoat of black satin embroidered with bright blue fleur-de-lis.

There was no one to impress with such a sharp garment, but Ben dressed for his own pleasure anyway. He bought the waistcoat.

At the barbershop, Dan was greeted warmly and the two of them were ushered to the back porch, sectioned off and blocked from the view of the alley by large hanging sheets of muslin. Several women waited with fresh, empty metal washtubs and gallons of water already heated over open fires set back in the alley.

They were shown to a pair of tubs, separated by a sheet of muslin that didn't quite block the view of one tub from the other. Ben was suggestively undressed by a woman but only just with sweaty blond curls piled on her head. She wore nothing more than her chemise, corset, and petticoats. Her young, firm breasts were nearly bursting out of her scanty clothing. Ben gave her a suggestive smile, appreciating both the view and tantalizing touch of her hands on his skin.

He could hear Dan bantering with the woman helping him into his bath.

"Now, Dan," she scolded. "I'm only gonna wash your back and nothin' else. You know Alice would be a mite upset if she came home and found out I'd taken liberties."

Ben chuckled at the truth of her words.

"Amy, you know I wouldn't tell." There was laughter in Dan's voice. "It'd be our little secret."

The sounds of buckets of hot water filling the tubs filled the small space as the other ladies moved back and forth between them and the fires. The steam rose higher with each bucket dumped.

Ben stepped naked into the tub, sat down and eased back until he could rest on the sloped side. He sighed gratefully and let his head fall back on the edge. He glanced over and saw Dan sitting on the edge of his tub, the last of his clothing gone. Dan put a hand on either side of the tub and pivoted to swing his intact leg into the water, following with the second and lowering himself down.

His pleased sigh echoed Ben's.

Their lady-helpers a term Ben applied loosely knelt beside their tubs with bars of lye soap, clean muslin rags and soft bristled brushes. Ben couldn't remember but he thought the last time he'd been this well cared for had been that time in San Francisco …

Dan's voice broke into his thoughts. "Sure beats rinsing off at the well pump."

"That it does," Ben concurred enthusiastically. "After this I'm gonna smell fresh as a daisy and look respectable enough I could maybe go courtin'."

"George owns the livery stable." Dan turned to look at Ben, a wide smile on his face, his eyes dancing with humor. "He frowns on that kind of thing with his livestock."

"Oh!" Ben feigned a wound. "Someone around here must have an ugly daughter they're desperate to get rid of."

The blond washing his back splashed Ben playfully and gave a squeal of mock outrage.

When they'd been cleaned from head to foot, the women emptied their tubs part way and refilled with fresh water, then retreated to let them soak and relax.

"Remember the night the Apache attacked?" Dan asked, his voice quiet, lazy and relaxed.

"Mmm hmmm," Ben responded, puzzled at Dan's choice of conversation.

"Why did you just hit me?" he asked. "Why didn't you shoot me?"

"I took your horses," Ben answered. "I didn't think you'd be able to catch up. There was no need to kill you."

"Ben, I've watched you kill men when there was no need," Dan said, his voice low and his gaze pinning Ben intensely. "What stopped you from doing the same to me?"

"Men need killin' for all sorts of different reasons," he explained, knowing they both needed to keep their voices down to not be heard by the group of women. "Not all of 'em obvious at first glance."

"So what saved me?" Dan pressed.

"You know when to shut up. You're not stupid. You didn't want me dead. You just wanted me on a train so you could get paid so you could feed your family." Ben held Dan's gaze steadily. "You never tried to take my dignity, Dan. I repaid you by not taking your life."

Ben turned back to look at the roof of the porch, then let his eyes slide closed as he relaxed down into the hot water.

After a time, the gals pounced on them again, soaping, scrubbing and cleaning them all over again before declaring them fit for human contact and then helping them both to dress.

Dan kept up a running dialog with the barber as he relaxed in the chair and let himself be shaved. Ben chuckled quietly from the second chair as his hair was cut and he, too, received a shave.

When the barber sat him and smoothed soothing oil on his freshly shaved skin, Ben sniffed appreciatively.

"That's a nice oil you got there," he remarked. "I believe I smell like a man should and not big city dandy."

The barber chuckled. "My wife will appreciate that. She makes it up for me. She started out trying to recreate a bottle she picked up in Chicago some years back."

"If you've got a bottle to spare, I'd be happy to buy it."

With his newest purchase wrapped carefully in old towels, Ben and Dan returned to the mercantile. They packed the items in their saddlebags and headed back to the ranch.

~*~

They fried up another chicken that night and shared a fresh bottle of whiskey. The intensity and anger of the night before hadn't returned. They were relaxed and the conversation was amiable.

The hour grew late and Ben spoke into the silence that had settled around them. "William should be due back any day."

"Yep," Dan concurred.

"I should probably head out tomorrow," Ben said, knowing he sounded reluctant.

"Where you headed?" Dan asked, not sounding any happier than Ben felt.

"I thought I'd ride on to Deadwood in South Dakota," he replied. "See what kinda trouble I can get myself into at that mining town out there."

Dan huffed a laugh. "Gonna try your hand at panning?"

"Nah." Ben shook his head. "Maybe see how my luck runs at poker or the faro tables."

"You gonna answer my question before you go?" Dan asked.

"What question is that?" Ben hedged, but he knew the answer.

"Why?" Dan's eyes held a challenge. He was waiting to see how long Ben was going to pretend he didn't know what this was all about.

"There is no one answer to that question," Ben finally confessed. "And sometimes I'm not exactly sure, myself."

"If all you'd wanted was for me and William to get paid and go home, you coulda called your crew off back at the hotel. Then we coulda walked to the train, calm like."

"No," Ben shook his head emphatically. "Charlie couldn't be called off. He wasn't going to stop until I was free or he was dead."

"That's pretty strong loyalty."

"That's loyalty mixed with a little bit of crazy."

"You killed him for that loyalty."

"No, he betrayed me. It was over. I was on the train. He shot you in the back out of pure spite, though I told him not to."

"Didn't you kill him out of anger and spite?"

"It ended when I got on the train. Charlie knew the price for going against me."

Dan shook his head, a look of disbelief on his features. "I can't reconcile that man with the one who helped me work my ranch this last week."

"As I'm sure most of the residents of Bisbee can't reconcile the soft spoken rancher, the husband, the father, with the man who got Ben Wade onto the prison train to Yuma."

"Yeah, funny how the town treats me different now," Dan said darkly and Ben understood his anger. Dan was the same man he'd always been; people were finally bothering to see it. "But it's my wife and boys. It's the way they treat me different that matters."

They looked at each across the table for an interminable time, and Ben felt they'd reached a tenuous understanding. He felt a brief pang of regret for the man he himself never had the chance to become. The kind of man he saw each time he looked into Dan's eyes; the kind of man who voluntarily stepped onto the 3:10 to Yuma.

Dan gathered up the nearly empty bottle and their two glasses and put them away in the kitchen. Ben followed him, more slowly. He watched Dan's back for several long moments, contemplating what to do about the last thing left unsettled between them.

Ben slowly crossed the kitchen until he stood just behind Dan. He knew when Dan realized he was there by the slight lift of his head and shift of his shoulders. Ben placed his palm on Dan's back and left it there while he considered his words.

"Last night we were angry and hostile," he said quietly. "Tonight we're past that."

"Last night happened because we were angry and hostile and drunk." Dan's voice was rough.

"Do you believe that?" Ben rubbed his hand along Dan's spine.

"Do you?"

"I think we were drunk so that it could happen," Ben concluded.

Dan turned slowly, his expression guarded but his eyes feverish. "Why you?"

"Well, I like to think it's because I'm handsome and charming," Ben said with a smile, unsure what Dan needed to know. "But if you'd rather one of your ranch hands …"

Dan made an impatient gesture. "I've told you things about myself I've only ever shared with Alice. You're a criminal. A killer. Why do I need you to understand me?"

"You need me to understand that you aren't anything like me," Ben supplied.

Dan started to protest and Ben silenced him with a hand behind his neck and pulling their mouths together. He responded immediately, angling his head and opening his mouth when Ben licked along his lips.

He dug his fingers into Dan's shirt and tugged him, walking backward toward the room he'd been occupying. This couldn't happen in Dan's marriage bed. Instead, Ben would spread Dan out in the bed meant for his in-laws who would never visit.

Dan followed easily, his hands coming up to grasp and cradle Ben's head. He tasted of whiskey and he kissed like a man secure in his place in the world. Ben pressed his tongue in further and Dan met it with his own, rubbing and gliding and entwining as if they'd done this a thousand times.

They reached the door of room Ben had been occupying and he slid Dan's braces down his shoulders. The kiss became more hungry and desperate, their lips not quite meeting as their tongues continued to touch and taste. Ben gasped and groaned into Dan's mouth when he felt strong hands unfasten the buttons of his waistcoat. He had to stop working at the buttons of Dan's shirt long enough to shrug out of his waistcoat and let his braces be shoved down his arms.

Dan snaked one arm around Ben's body and pulled them close, their chests and hips meeting. His other hand wove into Ben's freshly cut hair and held him steady while Dan's tongue licked deep into his mouth. Ben bit Dan's lower lip when he started to pull back, swallowing down the answering groan.

He tugged Dan's shirt free from his trousers when he had the buttons opened and pulled it down over his shoulders and arms. Together they finished removing Ben's shirt, letting it fall to the floor on top of Dan's. He wrapped his arms around Dan's back, pulling their chests together and kissing him long and deep.

Ben reveled in the feel of Dan's strong, muscled chest against his own. A woman's soft curves felt good pressed against him but there was nothing like the firm, tight-leashed strength of a man rubbing and grinding against his body. Ben grasped Dan's head and tilted it back so he could drag his tongue, flat and wet, along his throat. He felt, as well as heard, the pained groan the made its way up from Dan's chest.

He held Dan pressed tightly to him and pressed sucking kisses to the tendon in his neck, working his way down to bite down on the juncture of muscle at his shoulder. Dan's blunt nails raked down his back, leaving burning furrows in Ben's skin.

Pulling back and sitting on the edge of the bed, Dan reached for one of Ben's boots, tugging it roughly from his foot, nearly toppling him over. They both chortled at the awkwardness as Dan tossed the boot away and reached for the second. Ben was ready this time and kept his balance. He dropped to his knees between Dan's open thighs and reached for his boot - his right boot.

He dismissed Dan's hesitance until Ben reached for the other boot the left boot only to have his wrists clamped in an iron grip. He looked up, searching Dan's face. Ben saw regret and a hint of shame. He sat back and waiting for Dan's gaze to find his own.

"I didn't know you with both legs, Dan," he said truthfully. "The honorable man I've always known has always stood tall on one leg. I have no comparisons to make; no way to find you lacking."

"It's still just a stump," Dan said derisively.

"Just the boot, then," Ben compromised. "We'll leave your fancy new city-bought leg on."

Dan's smile answered Ben's own and he knew it was going to be all right. He tugged Dan's boot and shrugged at the sight of the obviously artificial limb that was now Dan's left leg. Ben rose up and drew Dan's mouth to his own for a kiss of acceptance and lust. His heart hammered when Dan returned it with enthusiasm.

"I take it back," Ben breathed against Dan's mouth. "This is my favorite side of you."

Ben pressed him backward into the bed and clambered on top, grinding their hips together, giving both of their cocks a taste of the friction they both needed so much. Dan pressed up into him, his erection hard and insistent against Ben's hip. He paused for one long, deep, lasting kiss before reaching between them for the fly to Dan's trousers.

The worn fabric made freeing the buttons easy and Dan lifted his hips so Ben could slide them easily over his hips and thighs. Ben ran his fingers over the worn leather straps holding Dan's leg secure to the upper part of his calf, but no more issue of it than that. Instead, he leaned down and dragged the flat of his tongue over the raised scars of the old bullet wounds that had marked the end of their first meeting.

Dan gasped and his hands wound their way through Ben's hair. He pressed his body upward, seeking more wet heat and more friction for his cock. Ben slid up and kissed him, grinding their bodies together. His own erection was insistent and painful in his trousers and he rubbed the heel of his hand against himself, seeking relief, if only temporary.

Ben slid down Dan's body until he hovered just above Dan's cock, angry and red and weeping against his belly. Ben had never learned to be delicate. Women all had a tender way of doing this that he'd never been able to grasp. He simply grabbed the base of Dan's erection, licked his lips and slid his mouth around and down.

Dan didn't seem to mind the lack of artifice. He gasped, moaned, and shoved his hips upward as if to chase the heat of Ben's mouth. He held Dan down with hands on his thighs and concentrated on working his mouth. Ben slid his lips over the crown, tonguing the slit briefly, and then eased down the length of the shaft. He dragged his tongue along the throbbing underside before sucking hard and drawing his mouth back up.

The moans he tore from Dan's mouth were loud and lewd. Ben didn't swallow, letting the spit pool up and run out, making the whole thing sound wet and sloppy and messy. He ran his fingers through the excess, wetting them, and then easing them back behind Dan's sac.

When Ben breached Dan's body with a single finger Dan froze, all motion and breath, and Ben prepared for the protest that never came. Instead, Dan groaned loudly and bore down on Ben's finger.

He slid a second finger in and nearly choked on Dan's upward thrust. Ben's fingers were clasped hard inside Dan's heated body and he felt each flex of muscle and every reflexive shudder. His own cock was hard and heavy, pressing against his trousers and aching painfully. Ben wouldn't last long now, but there was one more thing he wanted needed to do.

Reaching for his saddlebags, Ben pulled them closer to the bed and extracted the bottle of fragrant oil he'd purchased from the Barber earlier that day. He pulled the stopper free and coated his fingers. Ben slid them back into Dan's warm channel at the same time he sank his mouth back down along Dan's hard cock.

He worked Dan's body, oiling and loosening his ass at the same time he sucked on his erection. The sounds Dan made were loud and guttural and Ben had had just about all he could take. He slid his fingers out and released Dan's cock from his mouth. Ben sat back on his heels.

"Turn over?" he made it sound like a question but he really hoped Dan didn't consider refusing.

To Ben's relief, Dan slowly turned over onto his belly. He propped himself on his elbows and looked backward over one shoulder. Ben ran his shaking hands over Dan's firm ass, his muscled back and strong shoulders. He gripped Dan's hips and urged him upward and was gratified when Dan cooperated yet again.

Ben unstopped the oil bottle again and poured a generous amount into the cleft of Dan's ass. It made the skin glisten when he spread it around, sliding his fingers in and out of the puckered opening a few times to slick the entrance. Ben stepped back to shed his own trousers finally, then took up the bottle and coated his straining cock with the oil. He hissed at the feel of his own hand stroking over his sensitized cock and knew he had to get into Dan soon or risk spilling his seed on himself.

Kneeling between Dan's open thighs and running his hands over his ass and back, Ben lined himself up with Dan's opening.

"Breathe," Ben growled, leaning forward slightly to begin his breach of Dan's body. "Don't forget to breathe."

Dan gave a hiss and a strangled moan but he didn't pull away. Ben grit his teeth as his cock slid passed the first ring of tense muscle and he moaned as Dan's heat enveloped the head of his erection. Ben's second thrust met with more resistance but he heard Dan's breathing, harsh and heavy, and knew he'd get past it.

Ben slid abruptly into Dan's hole and he gasped. Dan groaned, deep in his chest and his head dropped forward to the bed. Ben pressed forward until he was fully seated and his hips met the sweaty heat of Dan's ass.

Pulling out slowly, Ben thrust forward and met with no resistance. Dan's body accepted him eagerly. He felt Dan press backward into him, against him, and their flesh met with a loud sounding smack.

Ben shifted, covering Dan's calves with his own legs and bending forward to bite at Dan's shoulder blade. The heat of Dan's body was scorching against the front of Ben's. It was comforting and arousing as hell to feel that close to Dan. Ben worked his hips rapidly, slamming hard and fast into Dan, tearing moans and groans and soft cries from them both. He shifted again and sank his teeth into the muscle at the juncture of Dan's neck and shoulder. He bit down and held on.

The bed was shifting and creaking beneath them as Ben rode Dan's body and Dan fucked back into him with each violent thrust. They were drenched in sweat and sliding against each other and Ben knew that, when he came, it was going to be harder than he ever had with any saloon or dancehall whore.

He slowed just enough to retrieve the bottle of oil and get some into his palm. He reached beneath Dan's body to stroke the oil onto his stiff and twitching cock.

"Stroke yourself," he growled, his voice harsh and broken with desire. "Follow me over."

Dan complied, his hand coming to work himself feverishly as Ben fucked into his ass with abandon. It was all just finally too much as Ben felt his climax beginning to form in the base of his spine. His balls tightened, shifted upward toward his body and he felt his own rhythm falter. Dan was chanting something as his hand worked his own cock rapidly and he moved with Ben's every motion.

Ben threw back his head and roared his climax, feeling each pulse of his seed drain from his body and coat the inside of Dan's. It hurt, but it was glorious at the same time. He shouted swear words he'd forgotten he even knew. Ben gripped Dan's hips and knew there would be bruises from his fingers come morning. He didn't care.

Dan had followed him over, shaking and clenching and hissing out curses and epithets. The smell of sex was heavy in the air as it mingled with their sweat and the oil and the usual scents of wood and muslin. Dan eased himself down onto his belly and Ben eased himself out of Dan's body. He slid to the side slightly so as not to press Dan into the bed uncomfortably. He laid his head on a pillow and tried to calm his breathing.

Ben watched as Dan turned his head to look at him. His expression was inscrutable at first. After an interminable time, Ben saw a look of peace grace Dan's features.

An understanding had been reached and peace had been made.

~*~

The sun was just coming over the crest of the mountain when Ben mounted his horse. Dan handed him up a cheesecloth-wrapped bundle of fried chicken, biscuits, bread, hardtack and a dry cheese. His canteens were full of fresh well water. Dan also slid a full bottle of whisky into his saddlebag.

With one last lingering look he suspected was filled with longing but tinged with peace and acceptance, Ben turned his horse east and left Arizona, wondering what adventures were waiting for him in Deadwood.

He also knew that if he lived long enough, his path would lead him back to Bisbee someday.


End file.
